


Christmas Hellscape

by Tenoko1



Series: Christmas One-Shots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BroBond Christmas Challenge, Brotp, Christmas, Christmas Shopping, Dean and Sam Winchester Go Shopping, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Sibling friendship, Wayward Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: Preparing for Christmas in the bunker, Sam and Dean brave the mall to buy gifts for their friends and family.“You are not leaving me alone!” Dean snarled. “Not in this Christmas wrapped, Frosty the Snowman hellscape filled with people, Sam!”





	Christmas Hellscape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LapfulofMisha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapfulofMisha/gifts).



> Prompt fill: Christmas Shopping for other people
> 
> \--  
> This is for LapfulofMisha as thanks for making me a series of spreadsheets. You are an Excel genius. Thank you so much.

\--

“Okay,” Dean breathed, eyes darting around, counting exits and bodies, “don’t panic, Sammy.”

    “I’m not panicking,” Sam said easily, back to his brother’s and eyes scanning for options.

    “We can do this.”

    “I doubt that very much.”

    Dean threw him a glare, the overhead Christmas music unfamiliar and obnoxiously cheerful as mall patrons stepped around them and kept going, bags in hand. “We can do this!” He splayed his hands, swallowing. “We just… we just need a game plan.”

    Sam turned, hands in the pockets of his jacket and gaze distant, scanning. “We could split up. I take half the list--”

    “You are not leaving me alone!” Dean snarled. “Not in this Christmas wrapped, Frosty the Snowman hellscape filled with people, Sam!”

    Laughing, Sam raised his hands. “Alright, fine. Easier to buy presents for everybody if we’re together anyway. Where’s the list?”

    Retrieving it from his pocket, Dean waved the list between two fingers before reading as Sam peered over his shoulder.

    “Alex, Cas, Charlie, Claire, Donna, Jack, Jody, and Patience.” He looked at him. “Did we forget someone?”

    “I mean, us, but that’s a given.”

    “This was so much easier when we just bought each other stuff from gas stations,” Dean grumbled. He looked around. “Where do we start?”

    “Alex is in nursing, so,” Sam jerked his chin at a small, colorful shop, “let’s check the store with scrubs. They’ll have nurse-y gifts.”

    Dean followed. “Is that cliche? What if we get her something she already has? What if everyone has the same idea and all get her the same thing?”

    Walking past racks of scrub uniforms, Sam shot him a look. “That would be hilarious. And unlikely. Stop being paranoid.”

    Dean made a face, voice mocking, “Stop being paranoid.”

    The selection of nurse inspired gifts was small, ranging from proud and inspired to hilariously sarcastic.

    They ended up getting her a coffee mug and bookmarks.

    Dean stared dubiously into the bag. “Is that good enough? I feel like we gypped her.”

    “We’ll get her a book to go with the bookmarks,” Sam assured. “Next.”

    “Cas.” He waved dismissively. “That’s harder. I have no idea what to get and am secretly panicking.”

    “Not so secretly, Dean.”

    He scowled and Sam smirked. “ _Next_. Charlie.” He looked around, mouth twisted and brow furrowed. “I keep wanting to treat her like our Charlie, then remembering we don’t _really_ know her, which just makes this… awkward. Like we’re gonna come across as either stalkery for knowing her hobbies or… I don’t know, offending her because she thinks we’re using her as a Charlie replacement rather than treating her like she’s her own person, despite their similarities. Like an identical twin.”

    “Then we… do it as a gesture,” Sam insisted.

    “Not really sure there’s a ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ fruit basket for universe crossing,” Dean stated, brow arched high.

    “We could get her something simple,” he pressed. “Something we know our Charlie would have liked, but not overly personal.”

    Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I get the feeling we’re going to be buying a lot of coffee mugs and books.”

    “You’re not wrong. There’s also not a downside to those.”

    He made a noise, conceding the point as he spun on his heel and stalked toward the giant, illuminated directory. “Alright. Well. Where’s a bookstore? Let’s go kill, like, _five_ birds with one stone.” He snorted, mouth curling on a crooked smile. “ _Technically_ , we could buy them all shaving cream and razors like we would for each other.”

    Sam tapped a large peach square at the opposite end of the mall. “We could, but I think that’s considered Dirty Santa.”

    Dean eyed a food booth they passed that was entirely dedicated to french fries. “We talking the porn or the comedy?” His head swung around. “The comedy was not funny, by the way.”

    “It’s a Christmas game,” Sam explained, eyes sweeping over storefronts. The garish Christmas decorations in every store a mix of alien and charming to the point he wasn’t sure how he felt about them other than like _Alice in Wonderland_. “There are different rules, but it’s about picking unmarked presents from a pile. You may get a gag gift or a real one. There’s gift stealing, too.” He looked at Dean, a fond ache in his chest. “Jess and I played it with friends a couple of times.”

    He shook his head. “Sounds complicated. All of this seems…” He held up his hands, fingers splayed and arms shaking as he pulled a face. Dropping his arms, he looked around in bewilderment. “How do people do this every year?”

    “You’re just overwhelmed because it’s our first proper family Christmas.”

    “We’ve done Christmas!”

    “We’ve done motel Christmases with only each other because our father couldn’t be bothered or was dead-- usually with gifts we _stole_ or bought at a _gas station_ and wrapped in _magazine paper_ ,” Sam argued, sliding him a look. “This year, everybody is coming to us and we’re having Christmas in the bunker. With a tree and decorations that aren’t fishing bobbers or car fresheners.” His face softened. “It’s gonna be _fine_.”

    Dean jerked his face away with a snort.

    Sam knocked him with his elbow. “Come on.”

    When he came to a sudden stop, Dean bumped into him, then did a double-take at the large storefront. The interior spanned two stories, Christmas trees framing the entrance, while the smell of coffee and books drifted out to them.

    Grinning at his brother’s slack-jawed expression, Dean backed away, thumb over his shoulder. “Should I leave you two alone? Do you need a change of pants?”

    “ _Shut up_.”

    Chuckling, Dean meandered after him as Sam marched straight toward a cash wrap with two checkouts, getting into the shortest line.

    When they reached the counter, Sam offered a smile. “Hi, uh, we’re Christmas shopping and could use some help.”

    Dean frowned at the cashier, gaze trailing down from her headband antlers to the Christmas light necklace and uniform apron. She wore a large button with tiny colorful lights proclaiming her one of Santa’s helpers.

    Maybe they were in Hell and this was how some people spent their eternity of torment. It seemed horrible enough.

    Her head bobbed. “Okay, what can I help you find?”

    “Um, we didn’t have anything specific. Is there, like, a… lesbian fiction section?”

    Her smile fell, brow furrowing as she turned her head for a slow head shake. “No…”

    Her fellow cashier’s movements slowed, casting them side glance as she finished a transaction.

    The woman in the other line did a double-take and then a once-over like they were a tacky window display of tinsel and glittery rainbows. Dean felt his face go pin-prick hot and twisted, trying to appear interested in a display of bookmarks and refrigerator magnets.

    “Or, an LGBT fiction section?” Sam tried. She continued shaking her head, expression wrinkling further. “Um… newly released books with LGBT--”

    The other cashier stepped over, shooing her out of the way. “I’ve got this.”

    “But--”

    She looked at her. “Take over my register or go shelve some books, Meredith. I’ve got this.” Dean bit back a smirk at her affronted expression before the girl grabbed a stack of books and skulked off. The new cashier, skin dark and smile bright, clapped her hands and spun to them. “I’m sorry about that. Are we looking for youth, teen, or adult?”

    “Adult.”

    Dean twisted. “And young adult.” Sam frowned at him. “Claire,” he answered.

    “Oh. Yeah.” He nodded to her. “A couple of people. Young adult and our age. Both women.”

    Nodding, she stepped around the cash wrap and they followed as she talked over her shoulder.

    “There isn’t an LGBT section, no. It would make it easier, on the one hand, but is also like separating African-American fiction from the rest.” She looked back. “A little _too_ reminiscent of segregation.” Holding up a finger, she turned a corner and weaved through tables and rows of books to the staircase leading to the second floor. “There are, however, some spotlight displays we have control over. This is the best in teen fiction for the year with queer main characters or queer representation,” she explained, full-on doing a Vanna White beside a table with an arrangement of books and a small rainbow-colored Christmas tree.

    Dean and Sam considered the table, eyes playing over the wide variety of styles in book covers.

    “If you prefer non-fiction, we have another table with memoirs by queer people, plus a small selection of vinyl or cd albums by queer artists.”

    Dean inclined his head. “This will do. Uh,” he looked around, “do you know of any… light, easy fiction-- with no monsters-- a woman might like?”

    Sam arched a brow. “Alex?”

    “And Jody. And Donna.”

    “Chick-lit and romance for the holidays are back downstairs,” she answered, briskly setting off and weaving through the store with them on her heels. She gestured to a series of tables running the length of the main aisle. “We also have a bunch of family board games on sale, if you would like, as well.”

   

They left the store carrying sturdy cloth bags of books and a couple of board games, most of the people on their list marked off.

    “Okay,” Sam said. “That was painless-- and leaves Cas, Jack, and Patience.”

    “Patience I already had an idea about,” Dean admitted, looking around. “She’s trying to work on her ability to meditate-- while still being spooked easily as a rabbit. We get her some of that aromatherapy stuff, some zen tea whatever, then boom. Done. Next.”

    “We could make her a gift bag,” Sam suggested. Their eyes met and he jerked a shoulder. “Make it pretty.”

    Dean shook his head and shrugged. “Okay. Where’s a directory?”

 

Laden down with more bags, they stopped for lunch in the food court, settling into a booth with their stuff taking up nearly half of the benches they sat on.

    Styrofoam to-go containers of Chinese food in front of them, they ate idly-- occasionally stealing from the other one’s plate with their chopsticks.

    Dean checked his watch, exhausted after shopping only a few hours. He dragged his gaze around, slapping Sam’s chopsticks with his own as his brother tried to grab a dumpling off his plate.

    The food court had oversized garland and Christmas balls draped from the ceiling. Celine Dion poured from the speakers singing a carol and Dean huffed a laugh with a sudden mental image of Balthazar rolling on the ground in agony.

    Sam tilted his head.

    Dean pointed toward a speaker. “Balthazar.”

    Head cocked like a confused puppy, Sam shook with a breathy chuckle. He poked at his food. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

    “Sensory overload,” Dean said. Hazel eyes blinked at him and he shrugged. “Too many people, too much noise, displays and movement in all directions. It’s draining.”

    Making a sound of agreement, Sam tucked into his food, talking around strands of noodles. “Who’s next?”

    “Cas and Jack.”

    Sam stiffened, eyes flicking to his. “Oh.”

    “Yeah.”

    Inhaling deeply, Sam pushed himself back with a frown.

    The problem about shopping for Jack and Cas was, well... there was more than one problem, actually.

    Wanting to make sure they would like it, having no idea what they would like because all of this was foreign to them as they would be introducing them to Christmas proper. What was an appropriate gift they would have a use for or enjoy?

    Jack was technically a toddler and didn’t have any real interests or likes yet, still too young to have developed them. They wanted to be good influences, but it was an odd mix of raising a toddler and a teenager at the same time and trying to juggle the needs of both.

    Cas was older than the Earth, and while he pretty much lived in the bunker with them, hadn’t really established himself as an individual, either. So used to being a soldier with one more battle to fight and only recently having a place he considered _his_ home rather than just Sam and Dean’s home.

    “We could get Cas a new coat,” Sam offered. Then amended, “Or I could.”

    Dean’s face fell into hard lines. “Why just you?”

    He shook his head with a shrug. “I figured you’d get a gift just from you to Cas.”

    Not that he was wrong, but that wasn’t something Dean had admitted to. It made him bristle to be called out on it.

    “We can’t just get him a coat,” he argued. “He’ll get offended thinking we don’t like his coat.”

    “We _don’t_ like his coat.”

    “ _He_ doesn’t know that.”

    Sam pulled a face, eyebrow ticking up. “Point. Okay, so… we get him a coat and a whole outfit.”

    “We get him a couple,” Dean countered. Sam’s forehead wrinkled. “We get him just the _one--_ ”

    He nodded. “He’ll think we don’t like his, got it.”

    A mother with a stroller with bags hanging off of it in mounds pushed by, making Dean’s head turn, a curl of amusement to his mouth at the infant passed out in the bassinet and the toddler curled up asleep in the shopping basket on bottom.

    “So we get him a couple of outfits?” Sam asked.

    “Hm? Yeah. He’s got his own room, but nothing of his own, y’know? Besides his car.”

    Sam looked off, expression thoughtful. “...we’re gonna need help with this.” His gaze slid to Dean. “If we’re getting detailed: we don’t know his clothing or shoe sizes.”

    “Crap, I didn’t think about that.” His mouth twisted a moment before he pulled out his phone, dialing Jack.

    When he answered, it was with that same uncertainty he always seem to hold for the device, the silent ‘Am I doing this right?’. It reminded him of Cas and was sort of adorable.

    “Hey, kid.”

    “Hello, Dean.”

    “For the sake of science and a bet, I need you to go ask Castiel what size clothes and shoes he wears, and then text it to me.”

    “Science and a bet?”

    “Yes.”

    “That doesn’t make sense.”

    “Doesn’t have to. Will please go ask?”

    “Yes!” he said, movement and rustling coming through over the speaker.

    Grinning, Dean shot Sam a thumbs up, his brother covering his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh.

    “Thank you, Jack. We’ll see you later.”

    “Okay! Drive safe,” he said, the call cutting off a moment later and Sam’s laughter bubbling free.

    “That was perfect. They are not going to understand at all.”

    Grinning, Dean tucked his phone away and returned to his lunch. “Yeah, I kinda love that.”

    Sam waved a hand. “Okay. So, joint gift to Cas taken care of. Do you want help figuring out what to get Cas from you?”

    Dean kept his eyes lowered. “Why do you keep assuming I’m getting him something?”

    “Because I know you,” he countered. “And I know him.” He propped an elbow on the table, chin in hand. “I figure the two of you will have some sort of private gift exchange.”

    He scowled. “You’re making it sound like something.”

    Expression genuinely innocent, Sam shook his head. “No, I just know you. If you give him a more personable gift, you’d be uncomfortable doing it in front of the entire crew we’re gonna have on hand. You wouldn’t do it in front of just me and Jack. You’re just… personal. Cas is much the same way, and would do it out of respect for you and your discomfort regardless.”

    He dropped his gaze to his food, plucking at the last of it with his chopsticks. “I don’t need help.”

    “Do you know what you’re going to get him?”

    “I _don’t_ need help.”

    He held up his hands. “Okay. All yours. Any ideas for Jack? And is this from _us_ to Jack or from _you, me, and Cas_ to Jack?”

    "You, me, and Cas. Said he trusted us to handle it." He clicked his chopsticks. “And, yes, I have an idea for Jack.”

    Sam folded up his napkins and utensils into his container, gathering up his trash to put away. Dean was quick to follow his lead.

    “Well,” Sam prodded, bags in hand again. “Wanna share with class?”

    “Okay, so, Jack’s a toddler, except for how he’s not, right?”

    “Right.”

    “So, I was thinking. With toddlers, you’re suppose to teach them and set examples for how they’re supposed to be, but also stimulate their imagination, problem-solving skills, etc. right?”

    Blinking, Sam pulled a face, turning to look at him. “Have you been reading a parenting book?”

    “Why haven’t _you_? Shut up, I’m on point.” He huffed. “We need to find stories to introduce him to. Heroes, loyalty, friendship, brave when scared, right thing even when it’s hard kind of stuff, okay? Lead by fictional example and all that.”

    “ _Harry Potter_?” Sam suggested.

    He nodded. “ _To Kill a Mockingbird_.”

    “ _Wonder Woman_. _Captain America_. Oh!” Sam snapped and pointed at him as they weaved through the crowd. “ _Agent Carter_!”

    Head bobbing and eyes sweeping the mall store options, he said, “Good. Good. _Howl’s Moving Castle_. Now get back to books. _Nancy Drew_.”

    “ _The Little Prince_.”

    “No idea, but sure,” Dean conceded. “Pretty sure that’s good enough to get him started.”

    Sam stretched an arm out, pointing in the direction opposite of where they were going. “Bookstore is back that way.”

    Dean gestured to a shop by Dillard’s. “Used books and movies are over there.” He shrugged. “I figure we get what we can there, then go buy new for the rest.”

    Sam lifted his arm, considering his cloth bag of books. “Should we return these and get used copies, then?”

    “No,” Dean said, fast and sharp. He looked away and Sam saw the way a blush colored the back of his neck and ears. “Those are important. New copies supports them.”

    “...Huh.”

    Dean glared over his shoulder. “ _What_?”

    He shook his head. “Nothing, just… that was an unexpected response, I guess. Openly supporting, uh…” Dean’s eyes hardened, “y’know, this kind of representation,” he fumbled, not wanting to say ‘LGBT’ or ‘queer’ aloud, worried less by passerby’s reactions than he was of Dean’s. That he’d said this much about supporting it was… big.

    Dean turned his head away. “It’s important,” he reiterated. Then, mumbled, “For a lot of people.”

    As they entered the Half Price Books, Dean’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out, grinning at the screen as he thumbed open the message.

    “Jack says ‘Cas also doesn’t understand what ‘for science and a bet’ means, but here are the sizes. We hope they help.’”

    “That’s adorable. Can we keep them?”

    “Oh, I fully plan to, believe me.” He grabbed a handbasket. “Alright. Divide and conquer, Sammy. You’re carrying more stuff so you go for the movies. I’ll search for the books. Afterward, we go drop all this stuff in the trunk… and come back to worry about Cas and each other. Plan?”

    He gave a sharp nod. “Plan.” An impish grin curled the corner of his mouth, bringing out his dimples. “Don’t forget, we still have to wrap all of this stuff.”

    Dean paled and swore, looking around like he might need a chair to fall into. Sam laughed.

    Sighing, Dean indicated a cardboard box with rolls of wrapping paper sticking out. “See if they have any cool stuff in there-- and I mean _cool_ and _no_ stripes-- then grab however many fifty-eleven rolls we’re going to need.”

    Sam grinned. “It’ll be fun! We’ll hole up in the Cave with a Do Not Enter sign, eggnog, and a Christmas movie, set up on the floor and wrap them all. Holiday spirit. Sibling bonding. Normal family stuff.”

    Suppressing a smile, Dean nodded. “Yeah, alright. That doesn’t sound terrible. Actually sounds fun.” He sucked in a breath and smiled. “Okay! Time to kick it in the ass.”

 

When they walked out to the parking lot with a new series of bags, Dean threw Sam a worried look, brows drawn up and together.

    “We’re not spoiling him, right? We’re good parents, right? Are we spoiling him?”

    He shook his head. “No, Dean, we aren’t spoiling him, and, yes, we’re being good parents. We bought him stories to help inspire, teach, and mold him.” He met his eyes and nodded. “We’re being good parents.”

    Dean nodded rapidly, throat bobbing. “Okay. Okay. We did good.” He groaned as he shifted one of the bags. “I still can’t believe we’ve gotta wrap all of this.”

    “Hey, Jack’s we can put in a box together, or a few boxes. It’ll be fine. And they put Patience’s together in a gift bag for us, so that’s already done.”

    “Okay,” he agreed, opening the trunk to the Impala and unloading all of the bags weighing his arms. “ _Sheesh_.”

    Sam set his down next to Dean’s, holding up a fist as his brother shut the trunk. “Round two?”

    Heaving a sigh, Dean knocked their knuckles together as they trudged back toward the mall. “Round two.”

 

Sitting on pillows on the concrete floor of the Cave, Dean and Sam had gift bows stuck to them where they’d gotten into a play fight until it dissolved into slightly drunk giggles. Jim Carrey was on tv as the Grinch and the colorful glow of lights on the scraggly fake tree (Castiel had insisted it needed a home with them after no one else would buy it) illuminated their work area. Dean and Sam dutifully concentrated on cutting wrapping paper and folding it into neat creases.

    “This isn’t that bad,” Dean confessed, tape dispenser pinched between fingers and pinky holding paper in place.

    Sam looked at him, head cocked to the side. “What’s not?”

    He used his chin to indicate the room, their empty glasses, the mess of paper and bows and tape, the presents separated into piles of ‘wrapped’ and ‘to be wrapped’.

    “This.” He grinned, teeth flashing. “Malls aside. Big family Christmas is something I could stand to do again next year.” He shrugged, shifting his attention to adding a final piece of tape to a present. “You and me doing this. Kinda fun, actually.”

    He held up the wrapped box with a flourish.

    Smiling, Sam inclined his head. “Don’t forget to label it.” When he accepted the gift to add to the growing pile, he admitted, “You’re right. This is kinda fun.”

    Pausing as he reached for the next present to wrap, Dean slid Sam a sidelong look, one brow arching.

    “New Winchester tradition?”

    Smile stretching wide, Sam agreed, “New Winchester tradition.”

\--

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